Caught in a radio shadow
by Minne-My
Summary: Serena channels her grief over Bernie in an unexpected way


**Inspired by the song 'back on your radio' by Agnetha Fältskog. The Victorians believed that people who had passed on could make themselves known over radio waves.**

She hadn't dared to hope to hear Bernie's voice outside of her own head again. That voice accompanied her all the time but she wished that everyone else could hear Bernie's voice as much as she could. If she closed her eyes, she could see Bernie in front of her, talking to her as normal. Serena's new normal was taking rather a long time to get used to. It had been two years, three months and a week since the day she'd got the news that her ex-partner would never breathe again.

She'd counted the people whom she had lost and the people who had helped her through it and it wasn't a reassuring list. Raf for her mother, Bernie for her daughter, Fleur for her lover. And now all the people who had been there for her had died within a couple of years of doing so. She'd tried to avoid talking about it with anybody else because she felt like they were on the hit list for doing the same job but once Fleur had cornered her and she'd confessed, her friend had tried to dispel the guilt she'd felt over it all. Because it wasn't her fault, not really. She tried to remember that every time she felt cursed but so many months later, it still crept up on her. She'd stopped mentioning it now because nobody knew how to react. Everyone knew she had never gotten over Bernie's death. They hadn't known why they'd broken up and that was most certainly Serena's fault. That was something she was going to keep to herself, out of shame and humiliation.

That September was when she'd heard Bernie out of her own head for the first time. She didn't want to be that crazy woman muttering to herself in the coffee shop but although the words tended to get lost in the hustle, she could still hear her and wanted to respond. She'd whispered Bernie's name into her coffee cup as if summoning her. She'd searched around the area looking for how it was that Bernie had escaped from her head but couldn't find it. That night, the voice was silent. Serena missed it. Sometimes she'd dream that Bernie was sitting on her bed and when she woke up, she knew she had. There was an indent on the duvet and the echo of her voice ringing in her ears.

The second time she'd heard her outside, it had been at the entrance to the pawn shop. Serena had a quick thought. Something she'd read a long time ago. Maybe it might work. It was crazy to think so but by now, Serena was too far gone to care. She was making a spectacle of herself but grief made people do strange things. She walked in and thought she'd located the source. It was old fashioned but still in good condition, a relic from the 1930s. Running her fingers over it, she willed the voice to appear again but to no avail. She'd hovered so long that the man behind the counter was forced to enquire if she was interested in buying it. She told him not right now and had a quick exit.

Nothing, that night. Bernie didn't always come to her but Serena was convinced that she had to have that radio. Not even working in her office the following day did she hear Bernie's voice, as if she was peeking over her shoulder to comment on the medical records of a patient the way she used to. That happened a lot. Maybe at this point Serena was talking to herself, there was no way of telling at this stage. She went to the shop straight after her shift, convinced that her theory was correct. She went straight to the radio, glad it was still there. The man told her that it had been there ever since the shop opened, original stock. Nobody had taken notice of it before. It had been waiting patiently for the right owner. Perhaps, the right owner has found it, he said.

Serena had to be sure. She bought it for £10. 'It reminds me of someone' she told him, so that he wouldn't think she was crazy, mooning over an old radio. It didn't even work but she didn't care. He assured her that there was always room for more sentiment in the world and wished her a good day.

She strode out of the shop with her box, elated for the first time in a long time. She cleared her bedside table and put it there. She fiddled with the knob to see if something would happen but nothing. She didn't mind. Yet. She went downstairs to make cheese on toast. Bernie had loved cheese on toast. With mature cheddar and lots of Worcester sauce splurged on the top before being put under the grill. Serena had acquired a taste for it since her ex-lover had gone.

That night, she dreamed of Bernie sitting by her side. And when she woke up, the dial had been moved, she was sure of it. She looked at it curiously. She reached out to play with it again and although she knew the radio couldn't work; the more she turned it, the more she could hear signs of life, a crackling and a whisper, like an ocean sigh.

A voice came over the airwaves, getting stronger depending on which way she twiddled the knob.

'Bernie?'

Her voice came bubbling out of the speaker, a spark of relief and happiness.

'I was hoping that you'd try this method.'

Serena couldn't believe it.

'Surely it's just Victorian whimsy? This can't be real.'

'Oh Serena. I promise you it's real, if only people searched for a bit longer to find this medium.'

'You've been in my head all this time, surely I'm projecting?'

'I've been trying to talk to you. I miss you. I hoped you'd hear me from this radio when you passed by.'

'Are you sitting by the radio on the other side or something?'

'Something like that.'

It was like a long-distance call of old. Hopes and fears, anger and laughter all spilled out and although they couldn't talk all the time (_'go out with Fleur and enjoy yourself, I want to hear everything and which bra did you flash?'_), this long-distance relationship was more precious than they'd had in life. Even though the radio was silent at times, now every morning Serena woke up, there was a Bernie sized dent in her duvet.

'I miss you. I wish I'd known how much and not have done what I did. I'll never be able to undo it.'

'No, you can't.'

Sometimes Bernie had raged at her, having had been too polite to do so when she was alive. She could say what she wanted now. But mostly, she'd tried not to punish Serena too much. After all, she'd been forcibly thrown out of life (damn that bomb) and hadn't had to deal with the aftermath. Serena was the one left behind as she always was, watching everyone she loved leave until she was all alone.

Serena would never take another lover. Nobody else could compare. Even talking to Bernie through the radio satisfied her more than talking to anyone else. Because she could feel Bernie with her in bed at night. She was definitely there when Serena masturbated or used that ancient vibrator (often) because in life, Bernie never wanted to miss that. She could feel her spooning her protectively when she dove into sleep. There was a contentment about Serena from that point on, knowing that she'd never lose Bernie completely.

Nobody knew why Serena had a vintage radio by her bedside. It wasn't her usual kind of décor. It sat there for twenty one more years until the day she died in her sleep. No matter how much Jason fiddled with the dial, there was no sound to come out of it. Not now that it had achieved its purpose.


End file.
